


Loneliness Is What I've Captured

by muldez



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muldez/pseuds/muldez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows it's not the best idea, to be leading him on like this, to be giving him any trace of false hope or a sense that she's thinking of staying here. She'd meant to go home hours ago, once the fire had died down and the wind had stopped howling. But then he'd wiped the hot chocolate from her upper lip with his thumb and smiled with those dimples and bright eyes, and she was a goner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loneliness Is What I've Captured

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place before the revival but after mulder and scully broke up, whenever the hell that was. but i kind of changed it up a little bit.

She knows it's not the best idea, to be leading him on like this, to be giving him any trace of false hope or a sense that she's thinking of staying here. She'd meant to go home hours ago, once the fire had died down and the wind had stopped howling. But then he'd wiped the hot chocolate from her upper lip with his thumb and smiled with those dimples and bright eyes, and she was a goner.

She watches him from the window, arms wrapped around herself, though she's not cold in her old Christmas sweater that she'd left buried in their closet all those years ago. When he'd dug it out earlier, she'd felt a pang in her stomach that made her skin burn a hot flash of something she didn't want to feel. Something she didn't want to remember. But the soft wool of the gift he'd given her so long ago had brought a sense of comfort when he'd placed it in her hands, a half smile playing at his lips that seemed almost apologetic.

He's out there in the snow, beyond the frost of the window and light peppering of powdered white dust along the sill. Her breath continues to fog her view, and she uses the back of her hand to wipe the condensation away every time, the sleeve of her sweater damp against her wrist. He's sitting in a lawn chair, clad in winter coat and boots, hat pulled down over his ears, eye pressed against the glass of a telescope. All she can see is the back of him, hunched over in the cold wind as he searches the skies for something she knows isn't there.

It breaks her heart to see him like this and know that there's nothing she can do. It reminds her of why she left in the first place. She wonders if she should have ever even come tonight, knowing full well that he hasn't changed, and that she can't change him. She doesn't _want_ to change him, anyhow. She loves him more than he'll ever know; loves his passion and drive and everything that makes him who he is, makes him the person who can sit in the snow with a telescope for hours and be unaware of the time passing.

 _But there's more to life than sitting still_ , she thinks, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window, her breath fogging it up once more. And she's scared he's never going to learn that, whether she stays or not.

After a few more moments, she resigns herself to heading home. She can't stay here and watch him chase the darkness that she's spent the past three years escaping. It hurts too much. She bundles up in her winter clothes while the kettle boils in the kitchen. When it begins to hiss, she removes it from the stove and pours it into his favorite thermos with some cocoa powder and milk. She can't leave him out there in the cold with nothing to keep him warm.

She trudges out into the darkness, thermos in hand, eyes squinted against the sharp sting of blowing snow, her scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face comfortably. He hears her coming, and he pulls away from the telescope to smile at her from underneath his own scarf.

“Changed your mind?” he asks, and his pink-tinged cheeks and red nose warm her up more than the hot chocolate in her hand.

“I think I'm gonna head home, actually.” she says gently, walking toward him and waving the thermos, “I made you some hot chocolate in case you get too cold.”

His face doesn't fall, but she knows he's disappointed, and it makes her want to cry. “You sure?”, he asks, gesturing towards the telescope. “I've got it pointed directly at Jupiter. Looks beautiful.”

She shakes her head and tries to smile, “I've got some last minute shopping to do tomorrow, I need to get home and go to bed.”

He nods in understanding, taking a deep breath and standing there biting his lip, looking at her with a sadness in his eyes that she can't fix. He walks closer to her and envelops her in a hug, his layers of winter clothes somehow warm and gentle against her. She rests her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathing in the smell of cold skin and pine needles, trying not to remind herself that she won't see him again for a while. These visits can't be too often; she can't allow herself to do this to him. But she knows in her heart she could never fully remove herself from his life. He's too important to her. She needs his presence, even if it is just once a year.

“See you next Christmas, then?” he asks, voice muffled in her scarf, and it's only then that she feels the wet tears escaping her eyes and freezing lightly to her cheeks.

She doesn't say anything, just buries her head further into his warmth and feels a shaky sob wrack through her body. His hand gently begins to rub her back, holding her close as she gives herself over to the embrace that she waits all year to feel. His beard is scratchy against the bare parts of her neck but she doesn't care, just digs her fingers into his thick coat and cries quietly.

She only pulls away after she's composed herself, and she immediately cups her hand to the side of his face and holds him steady, staring up into his eyes and speaking firmly.

“Take care of yourself.” her thumb traces gentle circles against his cheekbone, “Promise me.”

“I promise.” he says just as softly, smiling sadly, tears shining in his eyes but not spilling over.

Walking away is hard.

Driving away is even harder.

As she drives down the familiar empty road, she can picture him in her head, settling back into the lawn chair, staring up at the stars. He won't touch the telescope again, not for at least a few moments. He'll just sit there, thinking of her as she's thinking of him, and knowing that the distance between them will continue to grow and grow until she's back in Washington and he's still out in the middle of nowhere in that damn house. The house where they spent so many days and nights blissfully in love with one another. The house where he got down on one knee and asked her to be his wife. The house where she didn't mind sitting still.

She wonders how the hell things got so damn complicated.

The house disappears from her rear view mirror and the guilt settles in, as it always does, setting her skin alight with the hot burn of betrayal and abandonment. This is the third year she's done this, and it's not getting any easier. She doubts it ever will. But she can't stop, can't _not_ see him. And she knows how unfair that is to him, and how horrible it is that he'll keep letting her back into his life whenever she wants because he loves her so much. But despite her inability to be with him the way she once was, she still needs him in some capacity, even if just for once every December 23rd.

She's been driving for about ten minutes, totally lost in thought, when she vaguely wonders why she's only using one hand on the steering wheel. Looking down, her eyes widen when she sees that she's still holding the thermos of hot chocolate in her right hand.

She stares at it, feels the car slow, as if she's unconsciously stopping it without even realizing it. When she comes to a complete stop, still staring at the thermos in her lap, she feels the tears come back, this time warm against her skin.

 _He's sitting out there with no hot chocolate_ , she thinks, biting down hard on her lip. _He's all alone out there with no hot chocolate._

She doesn't know why it bothers her so much, why it hurts her heart to know that she didn't give it to him. It's just a hot drink. It's not like he'd even asked for it. And yet, the very idea of him sitting on that stupid lawn chair in the snow without the hot chocolate she'd made for him, is absolutely devastating.

_Because you've given him something and taken it away again._

_Because you've made him a promise and you've broken it._

_Because he needed you._

_And you left._

She's turning the car around before the last thought even enters her mind. Tears blurring her vision, she steps on the gas and drives in the opposite direction, back to him. Back to that beautiful house that they'd fallen in love with when they'd first seen it, the first thing that was _theirs_ , that had made them feel like maybe everything they'd ever wanted for each other was truly possible. That maybe sitting still was exactly what they needed.

When she gets back, she practically flings herself out of the car, thermos in hand, slamming the door behind her as she runs around the back of the house. He's still there, back to her, staring up at the sky just like she'd known he would. She stands still for a moment, catching her breath, listening to the sound of the wind in the trees and the snow bouncing against the window panes.

“Mulder.”

He turns, stands, stepping back in surprise when he sees her. “Dana, what-”

She walks forward, the hand holding the thermos extended towards him, “I forgot to give you this.”

He stares at it, then at her face, then back to the thermos. Her stomach tightens when he chuckles softly and reaches for it, their gloved hands brushing lightly. “Only you.” he laughs, shaking his head, “This is something only you would do.”

She can't help but smile, feeling the genuineness of it light up her face, smiling even wider when he grins back. He takes a few steps forward and stops in front of her, peering down at her face with a question in his eyes that she knows they're both asking. A question that she already knows the answer to.

She leans up and kisses him, soft and sweet, both of their lips tasting like the hot chocolate they'd had earlier by the fire, when everything had felt confusing and unnatural. But it's not like that anymore. Not for her. Because while she may not know what the hell she's doing half the time, especially with him, it's all just suddenly so clear to her, in this moment. She needs him as much as he needs her, if not more. Neither of them can change the past or predict the future, but the present is something they have complete control over. And she's done with trying to let go of the things in her life that don't seem to work.

He pulls away slowly, resting his forehead against hers, “I'll try harder.” he whispers, and she sees the tears gliding down his face. “I promise you. I will do what I can to be the man you deserve.”

“Mulder?” she breathes, sniffling and reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling back to smile at him.

“Yeah?” he opens his eyes, cheeks still bright pink from the wintery cold air, looking just as handsome as he's ever been.

“Show me Jupiter.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you'd like to follow me on tumblr: http://muldez.tumblr.com


End file.
